


Endure

by Socrates7727



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Comfort, Cruciatus, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-09-25 22:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socrates7727/pseuds/Socrates7727
Summary: Slytherins had a reputation of being cold, and unemotional. Their only defense mechanism was to endure, to hold onto that facade. And when it broke? Draco wasn't ready for it to break. And he certainly wasn't ready for Harry to be the one to see it.





	1. Chapter 1

Slytherins had a reputation of being cold, and unemotional. Draco knew it before he even set foot in Hogwarts because that was what he'd been trained for. But their only defense mechanism was to endure, to hold onto that facade. And when it broke? They were completely decimated. Which, Draco supposed, was what let him slowly rise in the ranks of the house and adopt the younger students over the years. He was no better but he at least knew it, and could teach them.

He was a Slytherin through and through but he knew the pure blood life and he knew their families. By reputation if not personally. He knew which last names to watch for, which ones caught hell at home and which ones were far too invested in protecting their siblings to ever take risks. And they all hated him, at first. His attitude and his arrogance weren't great for making friends, even if they had some of the same traits themselves.

It took a first year, in the middle of the Slytherin common room, receiving a howler from their father, for that to shift. The paper screamed about expecting better and bellowed about disgracing the family name but Draco took one look at the pale little face and made a choice that shaped his entire future at Hogwarts. He grabbed his wand and taught the child a simple destruction spell.

Immediately, the howler was cut off mid sentence and shredded into harmless confetti. The entire common room stared. From then on, Draco was the only thing standing between the kids and their parents. As he got older, more and more came to depend on him for bigger and bigger things. Countless numbers of Slytherins now owed their lives to him, the fact that they did not bear the dark mark to him. He taught the younger ones how to curl into a ball and take a beating. He taught the older ones to duel with crucio curses involved. He taught them all the healing spells he'd had used on him as a child so the wounds never scarred. All of this was done quietly, of course, out of sight and away from any other students or professors.

But, slowly, Draco became their leader. Not through force or through money, but through respect and loyalty. Slytherins were fiercely loyal to a select few and Draco's name had made that list. He took Crabbe and Goyle to the library and learned charms for dreamless sleep and spells to stop panic attacks. He worked with Snape after hours and learned to brew potions for depression, anxiety, and any other kind of mental health disorder. He taught each Slytherin these tricks too, insistent that he couldn't be any kind of gatekeeper or king over them, that they couldn't rely on him forever. That he wouldn't always be there.

He couldn't save them and he was well aware that what he did only eased the side effects but he also had his own problems to deal with. His father loomed over him even from afar. But, at school, he managed to feel a bit better knowing he was in control and that so many kids were survivors now because of him. It was why they all rallied behind him, even in his stupid quibbles with the golden trio, even when he was the in the wrong. So, when he stood across the great hall from Snape with his wand raised, all of Slytherin stood behind him. They didn't care if Snape was their head of house, or Draco’s godfather. Draco was their leader.

But that all came crashing down the moment Draco refused the dark mark. He knew what was in store for him. He'd watched countless other kids be disowned, crucio cursed, even killed by their parents for refusing and had counseled each of them through it. But even as he did, he felt sick because he knew he wouldn't be as strong as them. He would fold the second his father raised his wand.

Which was why he sent an owl with something risky enough to goad his father into visiting the school. He let his father drag him off to a private office but he took seven Slytherins with him. They'd been waiting for his signal and refused to leave his side. Draco knew the only reason he'd skirted by so long was that his father had assumed he would be accepting it—hadn't even needed to ask. But when he said those words, he watched his entire life crumble. Hatred and anger like he'd never seen before boiled in his father's face and he yelled and protested but each time Draco refused he hit a little harder.

The others did nothing, only watching. They'd talked about this before, planned, and Draco had begged them to do nothing but silently support him. If they so much as moved his father would kill them and Draco couldn't live with that. So he endured the thud of his fathers fist and the scrape of his nails. He endured the thwack of his fathers cane and the disgust of his words. But when his father raised his wand, Draco still fell to the floor and cowered. Bile rose in his throat and he swore at himself for being so pathetic but he heard the word crucio and lost everything.

The world just... disappeared. It wasn't his first time under the curse but that didn't make him any better at handling it and he felt it stretch and burn and suffocate every nerve in his body until he couldn't even scream. He writhed in the darkness but no one did anything. No one. Why would they? He told himself it was because he’d ordered them not to, because his father would kill them if they intervened, but the darkness whispered back it was because they didn’t care. They weren’t even revolted, the way a person would be watching a fellow human being writhe in pain. They didn’t see him as human. And they were right, he knew, because he was lesser and always had been but he’d worked so hard for so long to pretend, just praying that they would never see that particular truth, so it stung so much worse when they did. No one moved. The only sound was his father’s steely voice on loop in his head

_ Disappointment. _

_ Worthless. _

_ Didn’t want you then, don’t want you now. _

_ Not a real Malfoy. _

_ Pain slut. _

_ Masochist. _

_ Don’t pretend you didn’t deserve it. _

And he was right. He was so right that it burned in Draco’s veins like Basilisk venom because he could never escape that. Even if he got away from his father, even if he dropped off the face of the Earth for eternity—he would never outrun the truth. He didn’t like the pain, not really, but he did like the darkness. It was calm and it was quiet and if he breathed it in for more than a second it felt like lying in the snow. His father’s hands were always cold. But the darkness was a sweeter kind of frigid and it didn’t burn as much as it embraced his broken body and called to him. Sometimes, he wondered if this was what death felt like. Sometimes, he wished it was death. But no one made a sound, no one moved an inch, because they knew the truth too. No one.

Until a voice, clear as day, screamed a petrification spell and a countercurse. Draco tried to lift his head to see which of his friends was going to die because of him but they were all still standing motionless, albeit paler than before.

Harry fucking Potter stood in the doorway, wand raised. He wasn't Lucius Malfoy but the sight of a raised wand from someone he knew hated him had him back on the floor screaming for mercy before he'd even managed to steady himself. He cowered and begged but then someone was beside him on the floor. He knew instantly it wasn't a Slytherin because they touched him and tried to hug him but he thrashed and fought because his skin burned at the contact and his chest screamed  _ threat _ . Eyes open, he saw the other Slytherins move towards him only to be thrown backwards. Not harmed, but blocked. His father stood petrified by the desk.

And Harry... Harry was the one hugging him from behind tightly to his chest and telling him to breathe. The crucio faded, gradually, leaving behind weak, aching muscles and a throbbing headache but Harry just held him. The other Slytherins didn't trust the Gryffindor and moved again to intervene, knowing how much Draco hated physical contact, but again Harry blocked them. He screamed at them for letting his father do that. But Draco didn't have the voice to explain or correct him, let alone give direction to his supporters, so he just whimpered and let Harry hold him tighter.

When he clutched Harry's hand, lacing his pale fingers over the tanner skin where it was fisted in his shirt, the Slytherins hesitated. He wasn't fighting. Draco managed to give a small nod to the others and they calmed down enough to regain their cold emotionless exterior and stick to the outskirts of the room. Not a single one left, though, or took their eyes off Harry for more than a second at a time. They didn't trust him with their leader.

Harry, though, just held him and pressed his face into the crook of Draco's neck and whispered over and over again how sorry he was. It burned, at first, but slowly felt more and more… tame. The heat was still there—from Harry’s breath, he realized—but it wasn’t a scalding heat as much as it was just warm. How long had it been since the last time he was warm? Honestly, he couldn’t remember. Between his father’s cold touch, his mother’s cold eyes, and the icy walls he built around himself every day he couldn’t remember ever feeling anything but cold. Even wrapped in hundreds of blankets, or in the middle of Quidditch practice—cold. So fucking cold. He moved into the warmth, not even realizing what he was doing until he felt Harry’s lips brush against his ear. He jolted, but Harry held him.

"I'm so sorry Draco, I'm so so sorry. I had no idea he would actually hurt you, I had no idea it was this bad. I'm sorry! Please, I'm so sorry I won't let him hurt you ever again I swear to God Draco I'm gonna protect you." The others couldn't hear it, could only see him whispering, but Draco whined and they were all immediately on high alert. Why was Potter sorry, though? Draco didn’t understand and the unknown settled into his muscles like ice, forcing another whine from his throat before he could stop it. Blaise stepped forward. Harry moved to hex him but Draco gripped his hand even tighter and stopped him. Blaise glared.

"It's time for you to go, Potter." Harry scoffed and held Draco tighter in response. He moved his mouth away a bit, so he could talk without deafening Draco, but for a split second he could have sworn that Harry’s hold felt protective. Did he think Blaise was going to hurt him? And, even if he did, why did he care? Blaise hissed, though, with fire in his eyes that Draco had only seen once or twice in all his years of knowing him. Harry raised his wand, ignoring Draco’s protests. 

"Right! So you can revive Lucius and let the cursing continue?! Like hell you're not!" Blaise frowned. Draco didn't understand. Revive Lucius? Why  _ wouldn’t _ they revive Lucius? Draco felt panic start to well in his chest and he lurched, reaching as far as he could to grovel at his father’s feet. He needed to beg for leniency, for mercy. He knew he wouldn’t get any, especially not now, but he needed to show remorse and devotion or his father really would kill every single one of his friends—Potter included. But Harry stopped him in an instant, cementing an arm around his waist. The Gryffindor locked eyes with Blaise and Draco felt the tension but Harry leaned down to whisper in his ear and his attention was immediately on that.

“Breathe, Draco. He won’t hurt us right now. Five minutes won’t make him any more or less merciful and you know that so breathe.” Shockingly, Draco actually did breathe. It was so sudden and in such stark contrast to his previous not-breathing state that his body almost spasmed completely out of Harry’s grasp. But Harry just readjusted and held him. Blaise looked positively infuriated—both at Harry touching him and at their little whispers.

"You don't understand and it's not your place. We know the spells and how to take care of him, you don't. Let him go." Harry sneered, though, and Draco felt the anger in the other boy before he even spoke. But, shockingly, Harry didn’t grip him impossibly tight or even tighten his current grip. He loosened it, actually.

"I'll let him go the second he wants to leave,” He paused, as if giving Draco an opening, but Draco nuzzled back down into his warmth and Harry resumed his soothing embrace. “But, until then, you can piss off. You weren't so keen to protect him a minute ago so why do you care what I do with him?!" He flinched, and Harry immediately tried to chase the shivers away with a hand on his arm. But Draco wasn’t the one who took that wording to heart.  _ What I do with him.  _ The other Slytherins tensed and moved closer, getting ready to hex him—golden boy or not. Draco raised his hand and they halted immediately.

"H- Harry," Behind him, the boy hummed to show he was listening but didn’t lower his wand in the slightest. "S'okay.. told them not to intervene." Harry shifted beneath him but didn't let go or lower his wand. He stiffened, surprisingly, and pressed his face into Draco’s neck again as if breathing in his scent or steadying himself with Draco’s touch.

"Your father was going to kill you." Draco shook his head, though.

"No, not kill.. still an heir." Somehow, that made Harry stiffen even more and tighten his arm around his waist again. Protectively. Why was Harry suddenly being so protective of him? Hadn’t the boy hated him with every fiber of his being not thirty minutes ago?

"Torture then! Regardless, they didn't even try to protect you!" But Draco kept shaking his head over and over again because Harry didn't get it. Why couldn't he understand? His friends would have been an easy kill for his father, not moving or speaking was the only thing that kept them alive, and he could not live with their blood on his hands. It was the only condition he’d had for taking them with him. He hadn’t wanted to take them at all, honestly, because he knew his father’s temper would leak out into the room and cut into each of them without discrimination but they’d insisted. Because he’d been there for them.

"Draco, you're shaking..." He was, violently and uncontrollably and bordering on the edge of a seizure. How had he not noticed that? The emotional turmoil beneath his skin screamed that he was panicking, that he was finally going to seize and smoother himself in a panic attack, but Harry gently hummed in his ear and grounded him. The other Slytherins, though, knew. Pansy frantically dumped the contents of her bag on the floor and tossed a little blue container at them.

"Side effect of the crucio curse. He needs mint." Harry eyed her suspiciously but Draco knew—he'd done this before—so he reached out and grabbed a dried mint leaf from the container. He chewed it for as long as he could stand the burn and then swallowed. Slowly, the shaking subsided. Harry looked relieved and Pansy did too but all of them just stared at him, waiting for his reaction—for him to recover and come back to his senses. But, for some reason, Draco couldn't bring himself to get up or to push Potter away. The boy was warm and he felt steady and safe in a way Draco had never experienced before, so he merely turned a bit and nuzzled into the nook beneath Harry's chin. It didn't occur to him just how fucking submissive and pathetic that looked until he saw the shocked faces of his fellow Slytherins. He just shook his head that he didn't understand either.

“Draco?” He met Blaise’s eyes and forced his body to momentarily steady, even if Harry was still holding him. Harry tightened his grip a bit. Blaise looked concerned, like watching the Gryffindor touch his leader physically pained him, but something about the silence kept Harry from intervening. As if he knew that they were speaking to Draco—and only Draco. He took a deep breath, wincing through the pain.

“It’s okay, Blaise.” He wasn’t sure why it didn’t bother him to be held on the floor like that—by Harry Potter of all people—but it felt strangely nice. “Really. I’ll be fine. Would you check on Heather for me? And Pans, would you make sure everyone gets to dinner?” They both nodded, like receiving orders from their general. He could feel Harry questioning the situation, confused as to why he was giving directions from the floor or why he was checking up on people, but he didn’t say anything.

“You sure?” That was the only question, the only thing Blaise dared to push him for, but Draco nodded. They were clearly uncomfortable leaving him with Harry, even if he said it was fine, but he managed to convince Blaise, his second in command, and the rest followed his direction. Slowly, they shuffled out of the room. Pansy shot Harry a death glare as they left, but thankfully didn’t say anything. Draco wasn’t ready for a duel between them, even if it would be amusing, because he was sure as hell not ready for Harry to let go of him. But, as soon as the door closed behind them, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Draco didn’t move.

“Potter—” But Harry cut him off, pressing a shaky hand to Draco’s chest.

“Don’t, Draco, just don’t. I just watched your father crucio you in front of your so-called friends I’m not gonna let you push me away like that.” Draco sneered, but he was very aware that he was still on the floor of the empty office in Harry Potter’s arms, trembling and sweaty from his father’s curse. God he was so pathetic! Of all people why did it have to be the boy who lived that saw him under his father’s wrath? But, even just thinking of it sent his eyes searching the room. His father was still there, petrified, with his wand raised. He didn’t mean to, but he flinched away from it when he looked and Harry instantly pulled him closer.

“It's okay, shhhhh he's petrified still. He can't hurt you right now.” Something about the word choice, the  _ right now _ rather than  _ not at all _ , made him hesitate but that fear was old and powerful in his veins. Draco shuddered and shook his head, already moving towards his father's feet.

“No, you don't understand. He'll kill you. Get out before he wakes up I can slow him down he's-” Harry stopped him with a single touch to his shoulder. He froze, staring at his father's form. Just for a tiny fraction of a second, Harry’s hand was cold and pale and his fingers were longer than humanly possible. He tried not to flinch away from the touch, even if it was too familiar. Breathe. In and out. This was Harry, he reminded himself, not his father. The touch was Harry. 

“Draco, you don't need to appease him.” He started to protest but there was a darkness in Harry's face now that made him stop. “You don't need to make him happy, you don't need to minimize your punishment. Listen to me Draco. He's never going to hurt you again, I promise you that.” Why was the golden boy being so… vulnerable with him?

True, Draco was the one trembling on the floor but Harry was close to tears and clutching him even tighter as if trying to shield him from his father’s frozen figure. Why, though? Why would Harry give a shit? Was it because he’d watched Draco take the crucio curse and felt bad? Like he had to even the score or something? Tit for tat? But that didn’t make sense because Harry had never been the type to keep score, even in their little battles, and he doubted the boy would start now.

“No, he-”

“Draco, you're safe.” He shook his head but Harry just rocked them a bit from side to side. “You're safe, okay? Whoever's in danger, we’ll protect them too. We'll get your mom to safety if that's what you want and we'll protect the other Slytherins from him. He’s petrified right now and he can’t see us; he doesn’t know that time is passing. You're safe.” Something about that hit Draco hard. It wasn’t the reassurance or the promises, though, and it wasn't even Harry's conviction as he said it. It was the way Harry instantly knew to protect the people who could be used as leverage against him. And somehow, understanding that made Harry so much better. Because, for the first time in his life, he didn't have to silently destroy himself and appease his father just to protect people he couldn't even warn ahead of time—because Harry understood. He moved back into Harry's embrace and relented.

“Are you alright if I call Madame Pomfrey now? She’ll want to see you because of the curse and your father should be revived and monitored too.” He nodded his consent, even if his breathing stuttered over the word revive, but just burrowed deeper into Harry's robes. The dark haired boy made the call somehow, but Draco didn't bother looking. Now, he wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t care what happened to him, or because he trusted Harry. Both options seemed equally horrible.

As they waited, Harry lifted a hand and smoothed Draco’s platinum blonde hair a few times, letting his fingers gently scrape his scalp and brush his skin. After a minute, his hand stilled at the back of Draco’s neck. As Draco buried his face in the scarlet robes, Harry played with the hair at the nape of his neck absentmindedly. It was surprisingly gentle and distracting which he thanked Merlin for repeatedly once Pomfrey arrived and began to fret over him. But Harry never let go. Even when Snape and Dumbledore and McGonagall appeared and gawked at the scene, Harry only curled his fingers tighter into Draco’s locks. He refused to budge even a little bit, no matter who ordered him to. And Draco was so unbelievably grateful.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up in a hospital bed, the sheets strewn around him and drenched with sweat. He thrashed, already trying to fight the fear that bubbled in his chest and trembled out into his hands from the nightmare, but a hand stopped him. It was warm, he realized, and gentle.

“Hey, you’re okay. Just breathe.” He obeyed without even realizing. Who was touching him, though? Pomfrey hadn’t touched him, at least not when it wasn’t absolutely necessary, since the incident in third year where he’d had a panic attack and none of the professors would dare lay a hand on him. Would they?

“Draco, breathe. Your father is still petrified, your mother and all your friends are hidden and safe. Even you and I are hidden, so just breathe, okay?” He nodded, trying to put a face to the voice he knew so well, but the touch was throwing his brain off track every time. Who touched him? Blaise and Pansy knew better, the other Slytherins wouldn’t dare, and who did that leave? He forced his eyes opened, even when the light burned, and came face to face with messy black hair and emerald green eyes. Potter.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” But Harry smiled, obviously pleased by his first name, and the hand he had on his arm moved to intertwine their fingers on his chest. Why was Harry touching him, though? Didn’t he know? He’d seen the curse and Draco had assumed it was pity that made him comfort the snivelling blonde but he was still there? Still touching him, even when he knew how pathetic Draco was?

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t panic or anything. Five minutes won’t make a difference, right?” Draco nodded, anxious for answers. “Pomfrey gave you a sleeping draught so you would rest. Dumbledore wanted to know what happened so I told him and McGonagall what I could and Snape nearly went for Lucius’ throat right then and there. Dumbledore stopped him, though. Whisked your father off to a cell somewhere to face the aurors when he’s revived and made sure we got to the hospital wing. I tried to tell him about your friends and everything but they didn’t care. McGonagall listened, though. She got everyone we could think of into hiding and they’re safe, I promise you. We’re in hiding, too, actually. But we’re safe and so are they, hear me Draco? We’re safe.” He nodded, but didn’t totally comprehend the words until Harry caught a tear on his cheek. Why was he crying? There was no reason to be afraid—not more than usual, at least—and there was no imminent threat so why was he crying suddenly? Harry smiled, though, and it hit him. Relief.

“Why are you…?” Draco wanted to ask a million questions but they all blurred together until they became one. “Just… why?” Harry smiled again, softly as he touched Draco’s cheek. He couldn’t remember the golden boy being so gentle or affectionate with anyone before, not even the rest of the trio. Was he dying, or something? But Harry just smiled at him, tracing his face.

“Because I get it. Our situations weren’t the same, obviously, but I get it. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” Draco wasn’t completely sure he could believe what he was hearing. Potter was sorry?

“What do you mean you’re sorry?” Harry’s smile faded, though, and he traded his hand for the one holding Draco’s on his chest. He squeezed it slightly.

“I mean I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t do anything. If anyone was going to see the signs, it would have been me, but even if I saw them I just couldn’t put two and two together. But I ignored them because, well, I hated you. And you pulled it off so well… I’m sorry, Draco.” He definitely was hallucinating, now, he thought, because no way in hell was Harry Potter sitting in front of him apologizing. No way, right?

“Why would it have been you? Who saw the signs, I mean.” Harry gave him a wistful little smile and squeezed his hand again. Surprisingly, though, it didn’t make him anxious or make him feel like he was trapped, it actually felt secure. Like a tether grounding him amidst his emotions.

“Life wasn’t always picture perfect with my aunt and uncle. Broke a lot of bones over the years. Missed a lot of meals. But that doesn’t matter now and, regardless, just know that I see that fear in your eyes and I get it. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” Where had this Harry been for the last six years of their education? Draco felt like he was dreaming, even though he knew he’d just woken up from a nightmare, but Harry just smiled. Had he ever seen the boy who lived smile so much? It felt like Harry was trying to blind him with it.

“You’re touching me.” Harry’s smile disappeared and he furrowed his brow at Draco.

“Yes, I am. I can stop if you’d like but it seemed to help earlier so I…” Potter trailed off but Draco shook his head before he could move or pull away. He squeezed the tanner hand back.

“No, don’t stop.” It didn’t hit him how uncharacteristic that was of him to say until he saw Harry’s surprised expression but he didn’t let himself shrink in on himself. Not this time. Not when Harry had been so supportive and protective and comforting. Harry relaxed a little at the squeeze and a hint of his smile returned. Good, Draco couldn’t help thinking. He liked the smile.

“Harry?” Just like before, Harry hummed to show he was listening but didn’t take his focus off of Draco’s hand. “I… Thank you.” Harry just nodded, still smiling.

“Of course. Turns out we’re not so different after all, huh Malfoy?” Draco stiffened at the last name—that was his father’s name, not his because he wasn’t his father and—

“Draco!” He started out of his thoughts and realized he was gripping Harry’s hand hard enough to break it. Quickly, he loosened his grip but Harry was still staring at him. Shocked.

“He really fucked you up, didn’t he?” Draco didn’t have to nod, he didn’t think he could given their current situation, because it wasn’t really a question. Harry squeezed his hand again.

“Sorry, I won’t call you anything but Draco from now on. Is that okay?” He nodded, and tugged on Harry’s hand. “What? Is something wrong? Are you in pain? I can call Madame Pomfrey if you—”

“M’cold.” Harry didn’t have to know that Draco didn’t mean literally. He didn’t have to know about his father’s cold touch or the ice Draco slammed into his own chest every chance he got. He just needed to know that he was cold, and that Harry was warm. He tugged again, until Harry got the hint and smiled.

“Is an almighty Slytherin asking me for cuddles?” Draco flushed bright red at the word and the jeer in Harry’s voice but the smile was still there, and not at all malicious. He was teasing him, Draco realized, but it was almost playful. No anger, no hatred. That alone made Draco whine and pull the other’s arm again but Harry just laughed.

“I never thought I’d see the day…” he mused, but he pushed Draco over so he could fit on the bed too. “The one and only Draco taking me into his bed. Unheard of.” Draco laughed, even if it was choked with tears, and Harry seemed to like that so he didn’t stop. Normally, he would have stifled or crammed it full of contempt. But Harry actually seemed to like the fact that he was amused?

Draco didn’t totally understand but Harry was warm so he curled into the slightly taller boy and nuzzled his chest. Harry laughed, shaking him with each breath, but Draco didn’t mind. It felt good, strangely. Finally, though, finally he was warm and the cold from the nightmare or the darkness couldn’t get to him and he felt Harry’s heartbeat against his cheek, reassuring him that Harry was there and that they were safe, and he was so warm… He fell asleep without even realizing what he was doing.

* * *

It was later that day, in their hidden hospital room, that Blaise and Pansy came to see him. Harry was still there, refusing to leave his side, and Draco squeezed his hand as they approached to get him to be nice. Both looked disgusted that Harry was even touching him at all. But as they got closer, they grew emotionless.

“You doing okay, Draco?” He nodded to Pansy but immediately turned to Blaise.

“Wormwood root. Boiled into a tea. Newest treatment for aftershocks of crucio. Supply is already en route, be sure to get it to the high risks first.” Blaise nodded his understanding.

“What?” Somehow, Draco had managed to forget he was speaking in front of Harry. “What do you mean high risks?” Both Blaise and Pansy looked to him but he sighed and nodded, even when they hesitated. It was Blaise who spoke.

“Slytherins. Draco trains us and the lower years sometimes, watches out for the ones with bad families.” He looked to Draco for affirmation before continuing. “At least half of us would already have the dark mark if not for him, myself included.” They dismissed themselves at Draco's nod but Harry turned on him, flabbergasted. He expected yelling or even accusations of rule breaking but he was not expecting Harry to look close to tears.

“I'm so proud of you, Draco.’ Draco's heart stopped. He’d heard wrong, right? He had to have heard the boy wrong because there was no way he’d said _ that _.

“What did you just say?” But Harry smiled at him and nodded, squeezing his hand.

“I'm proud of you.” He couldn't believe his ears. There was no way. There was no fucking way that Harry Potter—savior of the entire wizarding world—was sitting here in his hospital bed saying he was proud of him. No one had ever said those words to him. There was no way they were coming from anyone, let alone Harry Potter.

“Why?” he finally managed to ask, shaking slightly in disbelief. But Harry just smiled at him.

“You saved all those kids, Dray. _ You _ saved them. You took this shitty situation and the hell that you were living in and you used it to help people. You're so…”

“Stupid.” Draco finished, sneering and not even noticing the nickname. “If anything I put those kids through hell. I taught them to survive beatings and curses and how to refuse the dark mark but all I ever really did was prolong their suffering or doom them to hell on earth. Two fourth years didn’t come back from winter break this year, did you know that? I told them to refuse no matter what, that I would have their backs if they just sent a letter, and their father killed them. I'm so fucking stupid I just made it all worse.” But Harry was still beside him, running his hand up and down his arm comfortingly until he stopped speaking.

“I was going to say beautiful, actually. And before you go getting a big head on me, I meant your soul—not your looks. You know you're attractive and you don't need me to tell you that. But you have a beautiful soul, Draco. Absolutely beautiful.” Draco was crying, tears streaming down his face faster than they had in years. Harry just looked at him, though, and continued to soothe. He could not for the life of him believe that Harry had just said that and a large part of him said it was too good to be true. This was some trick, some hoax that would only crush him in the end. But Harry was there, sitting with those bright green eyes, holding his hand and reassuring him. That he was safe, that they were hidden, that he’d meant it. Draco felt like he couldn’t breathe but, for the first time in his entire life, it wasn’t for a bad reason.

“Thanks… Thank you. Really.” Harry reached and wiped a few tears from his cheeks but didn’t look concerned. If anyone would have gotten comfortable seeing him cry over the last few days, it would have been Harry and yet it still surprised him. He wasn’t used to displaying weakness. But he definitely wasn’t used to the people around him not recoiling and looking at his weakness with disgust, like it was a disease they might catch if they got too close. Harry just soothed him, though, and kept his warm hand over Draco’s.


End file.
